“Guess I’m not running or biking for awhile.”
It was one just one of the five million thoughts that flashed through my mind as my body tumbled over top of my handlebars and smashed against the pavement.
Don’t get me wrong, OK? “THANK GOD I AM ALIVE.” was definitely the first. But as sat there in agony watching blood pool under my leg and roll down the steep sidewalk, I knew I’d be sitting on the sidelines for awhile.
That realization hurt almost as much as the wounds and broken bones.
It’s totally an endurance athlete thing, ya know; wondering when we’ll be back even before the ambulance even leaves the scene. We’re a species that rides a fine line between passion and addiction.
At the hospital, as the doctor was closing the GAPING HOLE in my thigh, I had to ask: “So…if you were to guess…how long before I can get back on my bike…?”
Maybe it was my imagination or maybe he really did poke me harder before chuckling and replying, “Well, if you don’t want me to redo these stitches, I’d say wait until they’re out. Two weeks minimum.”
He confirmed what I already knew and didn’t want to hear: a break from the bike. A younger push animal would’ve nodded to his face and then tried to ride behind his back. But because I’m smarter now (well…debatable) I know what he’s saying isn’t punishment, but guidance. He doesn’t want to redo my stitches and I don’t want to get another set. So, we don’t ride.
So where does this leave me on the exercise front?
It’s pretty simple: if it hurts it’s a hard NO and if it doesn’t, we take it slow. I’m not training for anything except life and trying to acclimate my lungs to this thin mountain air. Here’s what my exercise has looked like the past few days since my accident.
THURSDAY: 30 miles on the bike before being mowed down by a Hyundai.
FRIDAY: Nada. Could barely move.
SATURDAY: Walked/limped 8 miles on the Coal Creek Trail. I was having a hard day due to some personal things and needed some sunshine and podcasts to level me out.
SUNDAY: Walked/limped/jogged up and down and around the Red Rocks Amphitheatre for about 6 miles.
Red Rocks is SPECTACULAR. Just absolutely beyond beautiful. If you’ve ever been to Animal Kingdom at Walt Disney World, it’s kinda like that but the rocks and the “Watch For Wildlife” signs are ACTUALLY REAL.
I’ve put in “miles” but the intensity is a fraction of where I was before the crash because, number one, I don’t want more stitches and, number two, it ain’t that serious. Fitness, I mean.
I am definitely more me when I’ve had a workout, but a couple weeks of rest out of a lifetime of fitness is silly to get worked up over. I will probably be refreshed and ready to get on that suffer train again once my hand heals and these stitches come out.
For now, dedicate some of your miles to this cripple and keep pushing!
Push on, PUSH ANIMALS >>>